Remote
by Sara Holmes
Summary: HP/DM. How to win back your television remote and get your obnoxious flatmate to shut his trap for more than a minute and a half.   WARNINGS: bad language, bickering and EXPLICIT AND MATURE SEXUAL CONTENT. Like, a lot.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own either of the boys or recognisable content. I own a laptop with a missing shift key and an uncontrollable imagination.

**Warnings**: Slash, bad language and MATURE AND EXPLICIT sexual content.

**Authors** **note**: Dedicated to the wonderful Xana-Belle, without whom I would never have had another go at writing smut. Shout outs also for the lovely brinimc, and everyone on LJ who left me wonderful comments on the LoveAnonMeme. I know I'm a pathetic excuse for a livejournal participant; I offer (attempted) porn as my apology.

And to people waiting for Mental - it's on the way!

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**Remote

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**

So that was how it was going to be, was it?

Harry flicked his eyes over to Draco again - for what was probably the millionth time in less than three minutes - who didn't even have the _decency_ to look back. He just _sat_ there, legs spread out along the plush cushions of his sofa, book resting on his knee, pale fingers idly playing with the corner of the page he was soon to turn.

It was making Harry angry just watching him.

And Draco knew it.

Draco knew exactly what he was fucking doing, and it was driving Harry to distraction. He _knew_ Harry was watching; knew Harry was waiting for him to say something - _anything_. This sort of confrontation didn't happen often, and Harry was never entirely sure exactly how it came about, but the signs were unmistakable. The tension. Draco ignoring him. The perfect stillness of that tall frame. Harry's foot tapping in restlessness. The silence.

Oh yes. Whatever the fuck it was, it was _on._

Living with Draco Malfoy had turned out to be easier than Harry had ever expected it could be. The arrangement had only meant to have been temporary at first whilst Draco found his feet: Harry had found him a few days after the end of the war in Diagon Alley, looking lost, bewildered, filthy, and close to tears. His own home had been seized by the Ministry and his parents had been taken Merlin-knew-where. And Harry being Harry, he had taken the prick in.

However, the one night Draco was meant to crash had turned into two, which had turned into three, which had turned into seven hundred and eighty four. Harry found he didn't really mind at all.

People still asked how they'd managed to go from enemies to flat-mates and even possibly friends after everything they'd been through, but both had given up on trying to explain and now replied only with shrugs.

Draco kept things tidy, Harry did the cooking. Draco would buy them take-away one night a week and Harry would buy them a new DVD to watch. Draco supported the Kestrels and Harry followed the Cannons, and they would fight over who got first read of the Quidditch scores in the morning. Harry would complain about bad dates and Draco would complain about never getting any dates. Draco would be mean about Ron and Harry would be horrible about Pansy, and they would both grin at each other, knowing they couldn't mean it these days, even if they tried. They would talk and play chess and bitch about their respective jobs, and would get on pretty well now their entire daily routine wasn't focused on actively being horrid to one another.

Yeah, they got on most of the time. Except when they were in one of these weird _moods._The mood where they seemed to get annoyed at each others very presence,and seemed determined to irritate the other to breaking point. Harry was sure there had been a point to the winding-Draco-up-game at some stage, but he'd be fucked if he remembered what it was this far in.

Harry's fists clenched in his lap as Draco raised one long finger to his lips, delicately licking the tip in the guise of wetting the skin to aid him in turning the pages of that damn book.

Illogically and unbearably frustrated with Draco's silence, Harry grabbed the television remote that lay on the sofa beside him and jabbed at a random button, the TV flaring to life immediately in swirl of colour and sound. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco's hand falter on his book and grinned inwardly, full of vindictive satisfaction.

He pretended not to watch Draco for a while longer, then surreptitiously tapped the button which would turn the volume up a notch.

"Potter?"

The voice was tight, a step below growling and Harry fought to keep his face straight, his previous anger forgotten as Draco's annoyance grew.

"Yes?"

"I'm reading."

"I know."

Harry wondered how long it would take for Draco to throw the book at him. Anywhere between two and ten minutes was the usual scale in these situations.

"Then could you turn it off?"

"Take your book to your room," Harry said, grabbing a cushion and pulling his legs up onto the sofa, lying on his side and making a show of getting comfy. "My telly's broken."

"Fix it."

Draco was getting more and more annoyed with every word he spoke, Harry could tell. He briefly wondered if this was a good idea; he was already on his third pair of glasses this year, all of them broken in these fights with Draco.

"I can't. And you won't have Muggle electricians in the house."

"Go buy a new one."

Harry changed channel. "Nah. This telly's fine."

"_Potter._"

It was effort, keeping his face straight when he heard the sound of that voice, shaking with badly contained anger. He ignored Draco and flipped another channel, full of satisfaction that he was now well and truly winning this round, even after his poor start. The control in these situations flipped back and forth quicker than he could keep up with sometimes.

"Potter. Turn that fucking thing off."

Swearing _already_. Harry wanted to rub his hands in glee.

"Why should I?"

"I was here first."

"Think you'll find _I_ was, actually."

He knew that line would hit a nerve the moment he said it, and he was right; the book Draco had been reading sailed across the room and hit the back of the sofa above Harry's head, falling down onto his shoulder with pages crumpled.

Harry barely had time to pick up the book and look up before Draco was across the room, climbing onto Harry's sofa and reaching across him to grab the remote out of Harry's hand, looking livid.

"Give that here-"

"Oi!" Harry dropped the poor book to the floor before grabbing Draco's wrist, yanking his hand away from the remote. "Get off!"

"Turn it off," Draco snapped, trying to tug his wrist out of Harry's grip, reaching for the remote with his other hand, his knees digging painfully into Harry's thighs as he leant over him. "You're being a twat-"

"You started it," Harry panted, stretching his arm out above his head, holding the remote as far away from Draco as he could manage. This was _beyond_ anything Harry could have hoped for - normally it would take a lot longer to pass through the stage of barbed comments and thinly veiled insults before they resorted to scrapping.

"I don't care-" Draco growled in frustration and threw one knee over Harry's thighs so he was straddling him, still tussling for the remote, pinching Harry hard on the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

"Ow! What the fuck, Draco? Pinching?"

"Fuck you, give me the fucking remote!"

"No, stop being such a brat-"

"I was – ouch – perfectly content reading until you fucking came in-"

"You weren't reading, you were doing that stupid ignoring me thing-"

"Oh you poor thing, can't stand five minutes without me talking to you-"

The tussling was getting worse; Draco was elbowing Harry hard in the ribs, trying to clamber up his body to snatch the remote even as Harry threatened to push him bodily off of the sofa. Harry twisted onto his side and Draco fell with him with a cry, ending up lying on his side facing Harry.

"Give it-" Draco panted, glaring at Harry for all he was worth.

"No," Harry glared back.

All four arms were above their heads, reaching towards the remote that neither really cared about anymore. Draco's jaw clenched and Harry braced himself, ready for more shouting, or a knee in his groin-

They moved at the same time and there was a _crack_ as their kneecaps collided; Harry having moved to block Draco's ill attempted hit on his nether regions. Draco howled, Harry swore, and their tussling started up anew.

"You fucking prat, with your stupid Muggle television-"

"Yeah, what about you and your pretentious books that you don't even _like_ reading-"

"I hate you somedays-"

"Likewise-"

Draco reached down so quickly it made Harry gasp; Draco snatched Harry's glasses off of his face and threw them over his shoulder and then he froze, the fingers of his left hand still folded around Harry's wrist but no longer pulling.

"Let go," he breathed, and he was looking right at Harry, right in his eyes, and it didn't matter that Harry didn't have his glasses on because he could see Draco fine when he was this close.

"No," Harry replied.

"Give it-"

Draco was getting closer, Harry knew it. He could feel Draco's legs all tangled up with his – when the hell had that happened anyway? – and was suddenly very aware that Draco's chest was nearly pressed against his. He was so bloody close that Harry could feel his breath on his face, and taste that stupidly expensive toothpaste that Draco insisted he needed and wouldn't let Harry share.

"Give it, or I'll-"

Draco broke off, his eyes flickering over Harry's face.

"Or you'll what?"

Draco clenched his jaw, looked Harry right in the eye, and then in one movement, shut his eyes and kissed him.

There was a dull thunk as Harry let go of the remote and it fell to the carpet, his fingers flexing in shock at the feel of Draco's mouth on his, warm and insistent.

"Aha-" Draco pulled away, gasping, and made to roll away, to go after that fucking remote, but Harry stopped him by grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him back in for another kiss.

A startled noise low in his throat was all Draco managed before he was kissing Harry back, as fiercely as they'd been fighting. One hand flew down to roughly cup Harry's cheek even as Harry tried to haul Draco closer, wrapping a leg more tightly around one of Draco's and pulling him up close.

Harry moaned, low in his chest as Draco slipped his tongue into his mouth, hot and demanding a response. How the fuck was this happening? He was _kissing_ Draco, and it was so out of the blue - sure, there had been the odd sly glance at each other when they'd been drinking, and that incident with the waking up in Draco's bed after he'd been comforting him, but nothing like this-

"Potter-"

Harry drew his breath in sharply as Draco let go of his face to reach down and tug at the hem of Harry's T-shirt, yanking at it with enough force to rip it. However, the position they were in meant Harry was lying on his side, unable to lift up to allow Draco to remove the shirt, which was apparently causing Draco some frustration.

"Fuck," Draco cursed, before biting down on Harry's lower lip, still futilely trying to lift Harry's shirt up.

"What's your aim?" Harry panted, grabbing and stilling Draco's hand, trying to get his brain to _focus_ and bloody think about this-

"Shut, _up._"

With effort, Draco grabbed Harry and heaved him over so he rolled on top of him. Caught off guard by the strength he never expected, Harry gasped as he lurched over and their foreheads nearly cracked together, bracing himself with his hands either side of Draco's head.

He tried to kiss him again but Draco jerked his head away impatiently, scowling. Harry felt his nimble fingers seize the bottom of his T-shirt again and in their new position Draco could pull it up easily; Harry hastened to help, his hands joining Draco's and pulling his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside.

He supposed he should probably be thinking this through a tad more than he had, perhaps wondering how the hell they'd ended up doing something they told everyone would never happen. However, the blood that was meant to be in his brain aiding rational thought was swiftly bypassing and heading south, leaving the mental warnings high and dry. Hands now apparently acting without conscious thought, Harry reached for Draco's shirt and Draco arched his back, flexing sinuously and allowing Harry to pull it off.

His lips were back on Draco's before he could stop himself, mouths open and panting against each other. They kissed hard, messily before Draco's mouth abruptly left his and he pulled Harry's head down by his hair so he could whisper hoarsely in Harry's ear. "I want to fuck you."

With a growl, Harry pulled his head back, twisting his hair out of Draco's grip, before crashing their mouths back together. "Not a chance," he replied against Draco's lips, dragging his hands down Draco's chest and stomach. He could feel his cock hardening with every second that passed; the ache in his groin becoming more insistent with every touch and bruising kiss.

"Well you're not fucking me-" Draco tried to sound assertive but the venom was lost under his breathy moans as Harry slid his hands back up his torso, fingers lingering to pinch at sensitive nipples.

Draco cried out loud and arched his back, trying to press his chest to Harry's, head thrown back before snapping it forwards and glaring at Harry, a flush covering his cheeks. "Fucker."

"I'll stop if you want," Harry said, an eyebrow raised as he teased one of Draco's nipples between his fingers, watching Draco try to remain composed enough to shoot back a scathing retort.

Draco gave up and instead shut his eyes tightly, turning his head sideways and away from Harry's, biting his lower lip and writhing slightly under him as Harry carried on with his ministrations. "I know you like it," Harry whispered heatedly, leaning down so his lips brushed the shell of Draco's ear. Draco twitched but didn't move his head. "I think I know a lot of things you'll like."

"Fuck you," Draco said, his voice trembling as much as his body, coiled tense and tight with arousal and anticipation.

"I told you, no," Harry whispered and ran his tongue around the inside of Draco's ear, cutting off Draco's snappish retort and seamlessly transforming it into a gasp.

This was the way sex should be, Harry thought as he bit down on Draco's earlobe, making him helplessly buck his hips up into Harry's. Not with someone who would lie back and let him take whatever he wanted, but with a mouthy blond who would curse and scratch and bite and _fight_, give him a fun ride and something back.

Maybe this was why none of his dates had ever worked out, why no-one ever made it back into his bed for seconds. Maybe he'd always, on some level, been waiting for Draco.

He moved his mouth down Draco's neck, biting and sucking at the skin, leaving a fat purple mark behind. He grinned against Draco's skin and immediately Draco snapped his head sideways, pushing Harry out and forcing him to move back.

"You left a mark? You prick," Draco snapped, struggling to sit up, his hands on Harry's chest and trying to push him back.

"Not my fault you bruise easily," Harry retorted, grabbing Draco's wrists and slamming them down either side of his head, pushing them into the sofa cushions.

Draco's eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, eyes on Harry's. Harry raised his eyebrows, inviting a challenge and Draco slowly lifted his hips, rolling them up, pressing the hard line of his erection against Harry's.

"You're not fucking me," Draco breathed, repeating the motion. Harry groaned and shifted his legs so he was laid more atop Draco, pressing his crotch down against Draco's.

"I think I am," he replied, rutting slowly against Draco. The blonds eyelids fluttered and he bit his lip again as Harry continued to thrust against the bulge in his trousers, the resulting friction feeling glorious.

"Not," he groaned, eyes now fully shut.

"Oh, really?" Harry asked, leaning in and capturing Draco's lips again. "Because I reckon you're about ten seconds away from begging me to strip you and hold you face down whilst I fuck you stupid-"

Draco's eyes snapped open and Harry saw the flash of arousal, clear as day in those grey eyes. "Get off," Draco said. "If there's any fucking here, I'll be the one doing it."

"No deal," Harry said, letting go of one of Draco's wrists and reaching down for the buttons of Draco's trousers. "I want to be inside of you. I want you to be on your back, legs open like a fucking professional, taking everything I can give you-"

He popped the top button of Draco's trousers open as Draco let out a shaky breath, eyes still on Harry's, wide and open.

"More," he breathed, and Harry suddenly wanted to steal that expression and keep it forever; Draco wide eyed and compliant, that pure, open honesty that only Harry ever got to see. He saw it when Draco cried over his Mother, when Draco got too drunk, when Draco was too tired, and now apparently also when Draco was begging him with his eyes to be fucked senseless.

Harry let go of Draco's trouser buttons and reached up, pushing Draco's head to the side again to give him unobstructed access to his ear. Draco tried to turn his head back but Harry held him firm, Draco's chin gripped in his fingers.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll feel it next week," Harry breathed into his ear, feeling Draco pumping his hips up ever so slightly, desperate for the friction again. "It'll feel so good if you let me, you'll be so tight, and I'll be able to fuck you so hard. I want to come with my dick in your arse, as far as I can fucking reach-"

Draco drew in a great shuddering breath and turned his head sideways, capturing Harry's mouth. "You talk too fucking much," he whispered against his lips, kissing him once more.

"You like it, you _asked_ me-" Harry tried to pull his mouth away from Draco's long enough to argue but Draco wasn't having any of it, cutting off Harry's words with his mouth.

Fine. If Draco wasn't going to let Harry argue the case about why Draco should let Harry fuck him, he would just go for it instead. Somehow, he doubted Draco would continue to say no for long.

Draco's breath hitched in his chest as Harry reached down once more, fumbling for the buttons of Draco's trousers, his fingers brushing against the hard outline of Draco's erection. His own prick was begging for attention, his arousal whipped into a frenzy at the thought that he'd soon be seeing Draco – his best friend and flatmate – naked.

"Lift up," he gasped into Draco's mouth, resting awkwardly on one arm and Draco didn't hesitate to lift his hips up off of the sofa so Harry could make an attempt at yanking his trousers down.

"Harry-"

Harry groaned, burying his face in Draco's collarbone and shivering at the sound of his name. He let his body press back down against Draco's, hindering their attempts to remove clothing.

"Harry- get up, come on – hang on, are you stopping?"

Draco stilled underneath Harry, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. Harry lifted his head up and looked down on Draco, who couldn't quite cover up his anxiousness with his mask of indifference. "No," Harry whispered and kissed him again, one long searching kiss before moving back and kneeling up, wobbling slightly as his knees sank into the sofa cushions.

Draco propped himself up on his elbows, staring at Harry's torso, eyes flickering over his body. For Harry, it came with no small sense of satisfaction and pleasure to see those grey eyes fixed on him in such a way. Reaching for the buttons of his trousers, Harry fought back a grin as Draco's eyes immediately went to his fingers, watching intently as Harry flipped the button open.

Harry fought the urge to grin at the look on Draco's face and slowly pulled down the zipper of his jeans. Maybe a little too slowly, because Draco blinked, scowled and then looked up to Harry's face.

"Fucker."

"If you want me to be," Harry let go of his jeans and reached for Draco's, pulling them down to his knees, revealing a pair of black boxers which Harry suspected were actually his. He could now see the outline of Draco's erection pressing against the thin fabric, a damp patch at the crown, and a shudder of _want_ went through him.

"Shut up, stop trying to be clever with your stupid _words_, and get - for Merlins sake - get undressed before I- I change my mind," Draco managed, kicking his trousers away and hooking his thumbs into the waistband of the boxers, looking at Harry impatiently.

"Are _you_ ever going to shut up?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Make me."

Harry growled in frustration and Draco's eyes widened fractionally, before he hurriedly pushed his boxers down to his thighs. His prick was full and thick, lying heavy against his stomach, and Harry couldn't help but stare. _Christ._ Harry had seen it before, of course he had - when Draco had fallen over in the shower and dislocated his shoulder, when Draco had been pissed and forgot clothing, when he forgot to lock the bathroom door and Harry stumbled in without knocking. But he'd never seen Draco like _this_ before; on his back, dick harder than it rightfully should be from just kissing Harry, eyes glazed over with lust.

He looked _good_ like this, and Harry suspected he knew it.

Draco shifted slightly, his hips rolling and his legs slipping slightly apart. His tongue did that thing again, that thing that was threatening to unravel all of Harry's self control; he slowly licked his lower lip without even realising he was doing it. Without hesitating, Harry shoved his own boxers and trousers down around his thighs, then awkwardly laid back down beside Draco so he could kick them off.

He had barely gotten his feet free before Draco was pulling him over on top of him, kissing him again, open mouthed and messy. No time for that though, Harry had other things in mind. He pulled away and Draco made a noise of protest – since when had Draco had a thing for kissing, anyway? – but Harry silenced him with a look, and proceeded to kiss his way down Draco's body; neck, collarbones, chest and abdomen.

"Oh, _oh_-"

With a hidden grin, Harry bypassed Draco's prick and kissed across his hip and down his thigh instead. Losing the ability to form coherent words was hopefully only a step above shutting the fuck up.

A shocked gasp reached his ears as without warning, he grabbed Draco's legs and pushed them up roughly so his knees were against his chest. Draco's body was trembling, coiled tight with anticipation, shifting slightly atop the cushions. Inside Harry, the urge to unravel the façade strengthened; he wanted to fuck that bratty mask of indifference right off of Draco's face and get that wide open expression from earlier back.

He bent lower and pressed a kiss to the back of Draco's thigh, a bony foot brushing his shoulder as he did so. He kissed lower and lower and felt Draco's body twitching more violently with every move he made.

"N-no-"

Draco's protest was way too late for Harry to take seriously, so he pressed Draco's legs further up into his chest and leant in, buying his face in Draco's groin, kissing the skin just behind his balls.

"Oh, god-"

_Just Harry_, he managed not to say aloud before he shifted just that little bit lower, hands still holding Draco's legs up, and licked him from tailbone to arsehole in one movement.

A strangled sob was all that Draco managed and Harry felt the weight of Draco's legs lessen; he could only presume Draco was helping hold the weight, maybe with his arms hooked under his knees, head thrown back, mouth slightly open…

Heart thudding with that tantalising image, Harry stretched himself out on his front the best he could mange considering the length of the sofa, and pressed his face forwards, his tongue coming out to lap at Draco's hole.

Bit by bit, lick by lick, Draco descended into a right state; gasping and crying out and shuddering all over. One hand had reached down to grab hold of Harry's shoulder, and it squeezed reflexively as if Draco couldn't decide whether to push Harry away or let him continue.

Draco's whole body jolted as Harry slowly worked the tip of his tongue inside his hole before jabbing forwards as far as he could reach, and the hand clenched on Harry's shoulder tightened to the point of pain. Harry pulled back, panting heavily, and pulled at Draco's legs to make him lie flat again. Draco complied, his whole body falling lax, legs flat and slightly parted. Harry climbed shakily up his body, straddling him again and looking down at Draco's face. He was flushed, chest heaving, his mouth still open, sweat already starting to bead on his forehead.

"Fuck," he managed. "Harry - _fuck._"

Harry dipped his head with a grin but paused, wondering if Draco would kiss him after what he'd just done, but apparently Draco either didn't mind or was too far gone to care because he craned his neck up and pressed his mouth desperately to Harry's.

Harry moaned into Draco's mouth, then gasped sharply as a hand slid down his side and across his hipbone, before nimble fingers brushed across his prick, making it pulse under the touch.

"Wand," Harry panted. "Find-"

"No, I want-" Draco's shoulder shifted as he reached even further, and then his hand curled around Harry's dick, gripping firmly and slowly running up and down.

"God-" Harry choked, burying his face in Draco's neck, his hips pumping slightly in time with Draco's fist, picking up speed as Draco did. He could have happily spent all evening there; face against Draco's sweaty skin, slowly fucking that glorious fist, but he wanted _more_.

With that in mind, he pulled back - which may have been one of the most difficult things he had _ever_ decided to do - pushing himself into an upright position. He sat across Draco's thighs, grabbing Draco's wrist and pulling it away from his crotch. Draco scowled and tried to sit up with him but Harry sat firm, one hand planted on Draco's abdomen to keep him on his back.

"Find your wand," he said quietly but firmly. Draco's eyes widened, his cock visibly twitched and then he obediently rolled sideways, leaning off of the edge of the sofa to rummage through his discarded trousers.

He found it in five seconds flat and immediately rolled back onto the sofa, holding it out to Harry without a word. The flush on his face had spread, staining his neck a delicious pink. As Harry reached out and took the familiar length of hawthorn, his fingers brushed Draco's, and their eyes locked together. Draco blinked and then his jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, tilting upwards slightly.

Harry read the gesture perfectly and was momentarily irritated by it; it was Draco _daring_ him to mention his submission after he'd resolutely said no for so long. He was just daring Harry to be fucking stupid enough to bring it up and get shouted at for his trouble. Harry didn't mention it. He didn't want attitude; he wanted Draco to fall into pieces again, and to want Harry, need him,_beg_ him.

Leaning forwards again, he captured Draco's mouth, making his breath hitch in his chest. Draco's hands came up and curled around Harry's shoulders, returning the kiss with enthusiasm and something that felt a little bit like desperation. Maybe Harry could get on board with Draco's kissing thing if _this_was how it was done; before, kissing had always seemed like a necessary prerequisite for more adventurous activities, done out of routine and habit. But with Draco, it was like he was being consumed, every nerve in his body lighting up, arousal burning through him as Draco's tongue twined with his.

He tried to pull away but Draco followed him, trying to keep his lips connected to Harry's. He struggled up onto his knees to mirror Harry's pose, his hands still on Harry's shoulders to keep him upright.

Flatting his palm against Draco's chest, Harry tried to guide him back but Draco wasn't having any of it. He knocked Harry's hand away and pushed him back with two of his own, Harry landing on his back on the sofa in an untidy sprawl of limbs.

"I told you-" Harry began, scowling as he tried to sit up.

"I know," Draco replied, swiftly straddling him and looking down at him with an almost smile. "But…this way we both get to do some fucking."

Harry grinned slowly as he understood, and relaxed back onto the cushions. He cocked an eyebrow at Draco and ran his fingers lightly up over his knees, feeling the fine hair part beneath his touch.

"Go on then, do your worst."

Draco stared back in challenge. "You're the one with the wand." A light smile curved the corner of his mouth and he tilted his head slightly to the side, wispy strands of blond hair falling over his forehead.

Harry was lost.

He couldn't do anything but stare up at that smile, at the mischievous look in Draco's eyes. God, it was perfect, absolutely fucking _spot-on_ - Draco's face unshuttered and unmasked, but still being perfectly _Draco._

"Harry?"

He blinked as Draco waved a hand in front of his face, and tried to collect himself and have keep some sort of control over the situation. He took hold of Draco's hip and guided him a little further up Harry's body, and then let go so he could press the tip of Draco's wand to his fingertips, wordlessly casting a lubrication charm.

"Very handy," Draco breathed, wide eyes on Harry's hand. "I would have just summoned lube from my room."

"Well I didn't know you had a personal stash," Harry said, an eyebrow raised, dropping the wand and rubbing his slick fingers together.

"You should have done, I stole it from _your_ stash," Draco retorted.

_Christ._ Harry knew he hadn't been wanking enough to get through three bottles of lube in as many months, but now was no time to ponder the solution to that mystery. Instead, he shifted down the sofa some more, reached round with both hands, roughly spreading Draco's arsecheeks with one hand and immediately running a slick finger up his crease.

Draco's mouth fell open in a perfect 'O' as Harry's finger found its target and smoothly slid inside, instantly enveloped in tight, slick, heat. Harry felt the muscle contract around his finger and bit his lip to hold back a moan, pushing against the resistance and driving his finger that bit deeper.

"Oh," Draco groaned as he pushed back against Harry's hand, dipping his head so his hair brushed Harry's chin. His body twitched violently as Harry drew his finger back, only to replace it with two on the inwards drive.

"Fuck me," Draco gasped, breathing hard and trying to relax and let his body get used to the intrusion. Harry bit back a grin; _so_ many smart retorts were running through his head in response to Draco's exclamation, but he held them in check and kept his trap shut. Doing otherwise would probably result in the prompt removal of his fingers from Draco's arse, and he didn't feel it was really worth it.

Nevermind Draco - _Harry_ was almost undone as he continued to roughly finger Draco, pushing his fingers as deep as he could, revelling in the way Draco's body pulsed and fluttered, slowly relaxing around him. Draco was _tight_, slick and hot inside, and Harry realised his own hips were ineffectually pumping up and down, wanting nothing more than to flip Draco onto his back, hold him down and shove his aching cock inside-

Without warning, Draco moved back, dislodging Harry's hand and disturbing his tying-Draco-down-and-fucking-him-senseless fantasies. Breathing hard through parted lips, he reached behind him to take hold of Harry's prick, holding it up upright away from his stomach with one hand. He held out his other hand wordlessly and Harry blinked for a second before realising what Draco wanted: he grabbed Draco's wand and pressed the tip to Draco's palm, muttering the incantation he had managed wandlessly earlier.

Still holding Harry's gaze, Draco reached behind himself as slowly - excruciatingly slowly – ran his lube slicked hand up and down Harry's shaft, his touch light and teasing.

Harry had to shut his eyes, groaning out loud. Draco was trying to _kill_ him, he bloody knew it. He was really regretting mentioning to Draco that he liked eye contact during sex. He remembered the moment well - in that conversation the morning after he'd shooed Simon Whatsisface out of the flat and then slumped at the kitchen table next to Draco who had merely smirked, passed him a coffee and asked for details.

That fucking eye-contact was now threatening to make him come before he even got his dick inside Draco; Draco was looking _right at him_ as he slowly lowered his body, his thighs visibly shuddering, and the sight of those grey eyes looking at him _like that_, combined with the sensation of the head of his prick pressing against Draco's arse, was almost too much. So much for staying in control of this encounter.

"_Oh my fucking_-"

He couldn't even finish his exclamation – he ended on a shuddering gasp as the head of his prick finally pressed inside Draco's body. He barely had time to draw in a breath before Draco was sinking lower and lower, Harry sliding further and further into his arse.

He remembered to breathe when Draco stilled; his arse sat flush against Harry's pelvis. His body was trembling but relaxed, and he was staring down at Harry with wide eyes and his mouth still hanging open. With every inhale Harry could see the outlines of his ribs under his pale skin.

"Go on then," Harry panted, blinking up at Draco. "What're you waiting for?"

"You to shut your trap," Draco countered breathlessly, rocking his body slowly back and forth.

Harry groaned, his hands coming forwards to grasp hold of Draco's hips. "Someone's got to tell you what to do-"

"I'll hex your mouth shut," Draco threatened, but the menace was lost as he lifted his body almost clear and then sank back down onto Harry's dick at the last moment, his head falling back as he repeated the motion again and again.

God, Harry was lost. He cried out, pushing his heels into the sofa cushions and thrusting upwards, laughing breathlessly as Draco cried out, clapping a hand over his mouth to try and keep the noises contained.

"No," Harry breathed as he slammed up again, his grip on Draco's hips enabling him to pull Draco down into every forceful drive. "Let me – hear you."

Draco shook his head, looking down at Harry with glazed eyes, but put up next to no resistance when Harry closed his fingers around his elbow and tugged his hand away.

"Oh god, _Harry-_"

The air was warm and thick, the smell of men and sweat and sex heavy around them. Harry was grunting with exertion as he thrust up again and again, his shoulders pressing back into the sofa. His breath burned in his chest and his legs ached, but he wouldn't stop; couldn't stop thrusting his prick into Draco's willing body. The slick sounds of their bodies slapping together and Draco's increasingly loud cries ate away at Harry's composure, and he thrust harder and harder.

"Touch yourself-" he gasped, feeling the telltale stirring at the base of his spine and in his balls, as well as the sweat covering his whole body and his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to come, wanted it so badly, to fill Draco with his release as Draco came all over him-

Draco obliged, shakily reaching for his own cock, wrapping his fingers tightly around his shaft and jerking himself at a fevered pace. Harry moaned aloud at the sight, wanting it to be _his_ hand bringing Draco to the edge, wanting to pull him forwards and take his prick into his mouth, to swallow him down as Draco leant over him, hips pumping, fucking Harry's mouth for all he was worth-

"Oh, oh _fuck_-" Draco's voice rose, breaking as his body jerked. Harry didn't let up; he pounded into Draco's clenching hole, his teeth gritted, breath caught in his chest.

He watched in awe as Draco came; his head snapping back as his prick pulsed come through his squeezing fingers. Draco tipped his head forwards, chest heaving, his fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat. He locked eyes with Harry once again, then raised his come slicked hand to his mouth, slipping two trembling fingers between his lips-

Harry cried out and slammed his hips up one last time, his body suspended in midair as his orgasm ripped through him, every ounce of energy seemingly to leave his body through his dick. His fingers tightened on Draco's hips as he poured himself into Draco's body, prick pulsing deep inside Draco's arse.

Vision swimming, he collapsed back down onto the sofa and immediately found himself buried under Draco's weight as the blond fell bonelessly forwards, his body sprawled on top of Harry's.

Harry laughed breathlessly, brushing Draco's damp hair out of his face and pushing at him to get him to move into a more comfortable spot.

"Stop it," Draco grumbled but moved regardless. Harry's prick slipped free from his body as he shifted and Harry saw the wince cross the pointed features. He felt a strange urge to ask if Draco was okay but thought better of it; instead he kept quiet and laid there with Draco nestled into his side, his fair head resting on Harry's collarbone and his still-panting breath warm on Harry's skin.

His body felt sticky with sweat and Draco's come, and one of Draco's knees was digging into his thigh, but all in all he never wanted to move again. His heart was still thrumming, yet to settle back into its regular pace. He felt like it could take forever to calm back down; it certainly didn't feel like it was going to whilst Draco was still laid naked next to him, quiet and compliant. Maybe Harry would have to shag him more often if it got him to shut up for ten minutes afterwards.

He realised that his arm was wrapped around Draco's shoulders, his hand on Draco's head and his fingers absent-mindedly carding through his hair. He winced internally and stopped, placing his hand flat on Draco's head, then pulling it away and clenching it into a fist, and then changing his mind again and putting it back against his head but keeping it perfectly still.

"What do I have to do to get you to carry on with the hair stroking thing?"

Draco's quiet and tired voice interrupted Harry's thoughts, and he took a moment to register the words before a slow smile overtook his face as he took them in.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry said airily. "Depends how much you really want me to carry on."

His grin got wider as he felt Draco's hand steal up his body and finger pinch at one of his nipples. "Ouch," he laughed, twisting his body away, grabbing Draco's wrist and jerking his fingers away to prevent more pinching.

"I'll do worse," Draco threatened.

"That's no way to get me to carry on being nice," Harry said, glad Draco couldn't see his grin, which he suspected was probably wide and incredibly goofy. Draco paused and stopped struggling to extricate his wrist from Harry's grip.

Harry risked a glance at Draco and saw he'd raised his head and was looking out over the room, a thoughtful frown on his face. Harry winced and tensed his body, waiting for Draco to find something to aid in a more painful assault against Harry than simple nipple-pinching.

Harry jerked reflexively as Draco suddenly sat up, anticipating a slap or a push at least. It didn't come; Draco just turned his head and shot him an amused smirk before climbing off of the sofa. Slightly curious, but feeling too shagged out to be overly bothered, Harry lay back and wriggled into a comfy spot, pulling a cushion behind his head. His eyes raked over Draco's nude body - which was turning out to be just as delectable as Harry had imagined it would be under his clothes. After wandering from Draco's neck to his shoulders and down his spine, his eyes fixed firmly on Draco's arse as he stood up and stepped around the sofa, bending over -_mmm, yes_ - to grab something off of the floor.

Craning his neck to try and see what Draco had picked up; Harry braced himself as Draco flopped back down onto the sofa next to him, one sharp elbow catching him in the ribs. Draco ignored his grumbling and threw one long leg over Harry's and rested his head back on Harry's shoulder. He wriggled around for a moment and then bought his other hand around to press something onto Harry's chest.

The television remote.

Harry looked down at it, blinking, and the slowly reached out to take it. Draco gave a curt nod and then heaved out a sigh, shutting his eyes and nuzzling his cheek against Harry's shoulder.

"Not a fucking word, Potter."

A slow smile overtook Harry's face once more as he wrapped his arm back around Draco's shoulders. He gently slipped his fingers back into Draco's hair, the remote held safely in his other hand. Still smiling, he turned his head and pressed his mouth against Draco's forehead, breathing in deeply.

He suddenly found he couldn't remember what they'd been fighting about in the first place.

And for some reason, he couldn't care less. He couldn't quite shift his stupid smile, and he couldn't really work out just exactly how he'd just managed to shag his best friend after two and a half years of resolutely _not_ shagging him.

He wasn't entirely sure what this was.

But was whatever it was…it was alright.

He shut his eyes and kissed Draco's temple once more.

"Wouldn't dream of it."


End file.
